


The Company We Keep

by Mr_Skurleton



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Card Games, Dragons, Drinking & Talking, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Skyhold shenanigans, downtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 13:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Skurleton/pseuds/Mr_Skurleton
Summary: A series of drabbles based around the Herald and the friends he makes along the way.Current chapter: The Iron Bull.Next chapter: Varric Tethras.





	The Company We Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, I'm not sure how this even came about. I think I was trying to practice physical character interactions and decided to share with the rest of the internet? Sure, we'll go with that. Anyway, enjoy.

She was beautiful. Impressive horns curling along her head, muscle bound frame with broad shoulders, wings that blotted out the sun as she attempted to fry the four of them to a crisp. Just beautiful.

Sera whooped with a smile that was wider than should have been possible on her impish face. Her last shot had lodged itself under a scale between the dragon’s eyes and although the beast seemed utterly unaffected by it, Sera found it completely hilarious. 

“Hey Dorian, look! Now it’s a unicorn! Unidragon...?” She couldn’t decide but that only made it funnier somehow. 

“I’m so glad you find this entertaining,” wheezed the less than enthused mage as the barrier that had just kept them from becoming human-shaped sizzling sausages fell away. “I on the other hand, would prefer not to be eaten today if that’s at all possible.” He shaded his eyes against the harsh sun and followed the dragon’s lazy flight. They hadn’t so much as worried the damn thing, let alone actually harmed it in anyway. 

“Given that it’s been munching on cattle and the occasional guardsman, I doubt it’s that hungry.” This from another horned figure a few paces to Dorian’s left. Bull might have spoken like a serious, battle hardened warrior but he looked like a child waking up on Satinalia morning. Eyes wide in wonderment, grin bigger than Sera’s, his ‘Edge’ gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were turning white. Dorian had never seen the Qunari happier. Or was it Tal-Vashoth now? The mage wasn’t about to ask.

“But I’d take cover if I were you guys, she’s headed back around.” And then the Warrior was off again, charging forward like a battering ram made of pure muscle. Dodging a gout of flame as the dragon landed, Bull rolled hard to the right and came out of it swinging. His axe bit into the tender underbelly of the beast and showered both weapon and warrior with a crimson rain so hot it scorched where ever it hit. 

Bull didn’t care, he was having the time of his life. Nothing could be more thrilling, more primal and clear. He leapt out of the way as the dragon’s tail swept forward trying to crush him beneath its sinewy coil. He was laughing, roaring, screaming that raw sound that did not permit words nor need them. 

For a moment he forgot all about the others. He forgot about the failed alliance with Par Vollen, about the world being ass deep in demons, about the would be assassins he’d tossed off of Skyhold’s ramparts less than a week ago. He let it all go. Because thinking about anything besides the axe in his hand and the dragon bearing down on him with teeth bigger than his head would get him killed. 

Far away, in another world it almost seemed, someone was throwing lightning. Someone else was roaring that same bone rattling battle cry that was as much of a challenge as it was a rally. Bull spared the Inquisitor only the briefest of thoughts. Much of the man was a challenge, changing the world in unexpected ways despite what others might want from him. 

Once more the dragon brought its great wings up as it lifted the bulk of itself up and onto its hind legs. Blood still flowed freely from the gash to its gut, making dirt and debris stick to its shimmering scales. With wings like the sails of a monstrous ship, it whipped the air around them into a frenzy that pulled them towards it with the strength of a surging tide. Both he and the Inquisitor were thrown to the ground and dragged across the now battle torn field.

Bull could barely hear Dorian shouting the Inquisitor’s name over the rush of wind in his ears. Standing farther back, both he and Sera had been spared the brunt of the force but only just. Sera’s bow was nearly torn from her hands just as she loosed another arrow into the beast’s snarling face. 

Aim as impeccable as always delivered the shot straight into the dragon’s right eye. It bellowed in fury and pain, its massive limbs stomping the ground as it staggered backwards clawing at its damaged eye. Bull wasted no time. 

Jumping to his feet, he’s strides ate the distance like it was nothing. He leapt with axe raised and aimed at the dragon’s exposed throat. But even in its injured state, this was still a high dragon. A being that had survived countless battles and centuries. It saw the airborne warrior in the glint of its remaining eye and the dinner plate sized pupil narrowed to a slit. Claws longer than Bull’s arm slammed into him as the dragon batted him away. If it were not for a renewed and held barrier cast by their leader, Bull would have been seeing his own insides. As it was, he merely tumbled to the ground in a bruised daze. 

The others weren’t faring any better. Dorian was panting, his normal array of fire throwing of little use against a creature that breathed the stuff. Sera was swiftly running out of arrows to pepper it with. She was trying to make sure every shot counted as much as possible, a hard thing to do given the dragon’s armored hide. And their leader was standing directly over Bull. The crooked staff he carried little more than a blur as lightning streamed from its tip. 

“Still with us?” Lavellan had to shout to be heard even though he was less than a foot from where Bull lay. 

“Yeah,” Bull growled back, hefting himself up and shaking the fog from his head with a toss of his horns. 

“Great. I’ll draw its attention.” And with that he was off running. No orders given as to what he wanted Bull to do once the beast was distracted. It was a level of trust that had always been there. Another thing that made Bull’s horns itch if he thought about it too long. 

Lavellan did as he said he would, harrying the creature enough to draw its ire far to the left of Bull as well as the others. The warrior wasted no more time on problems that couldn’t be fixed with a sharp edge. His approach was far less aggressive this time. Using the newly created blindspot to get nice and close, Bull hefted his axe and swung at the dragon’s inner thigh like one would fell a giant tree. 

The resulting howl made his teeth chatter in his skull. He was pretty sure his ears would never stop ringing. As the snout of the beast snapped in his direction and its one good eye flared with rage at the sight of him, Bull squared his shoulders and took his stance. One of them was about to die and he didn’t much care which it was.

He caught the faint prickling of magic along his skin but he didn’t care, as the dragon reared back and its jaws rushed towards him, Bull put everything he was into that final swing. Lavellan’s barrier held even in the face of immolating flames and Bull’s axe came down square between the dragon’s eyes with such a force that he felt its skull crack. 

In its death throes, the high dragon writhed until it felt like the earth would break apart beneath it. All four of them were knocked from their feet, Bull and Lavellan having to scramble back to avoid being crushed by flailing limbs. When it was over, Bull found himself covered in dirt, blood and thicker things. The air was thick with smoke and a scent that flooded his nostrils until his lungs were filled with it.

More intoxicating than the strongest brew it flared along his senses until he could barely understand what they were telling him. Every color shone more beautifully than ever before. His ears still rang with the dragon’s cry but now it was a song he felt in the blood, coursing in time with the rhythm of his heart. He looked down at the thin, blood splattered elf in front of him and did something that took them all by surprise. 

With one giant and scarred hand, Bull lifted Lavellan by the front of his jacket, kissed the elf fiercely and then slammed their skulls together in a headbutt that left the elven mage dazed and staggering when Bull let go of him. 

“Best Damn Day Ever!” Bull bellowed, slapping Lavellan’s shoulder for good measure. Luckily, Dorian was there to steady the already dazed Inquisitor from falling over. A simple hand on his shoulder, but it was enough for Bull to see something he hadn’t noticed before. Or rather, had noticed but not understood. He’d worry about it later. Right then there was more important things to be doing. Like admiring his kill.

“Taarsidath-an halsaam!” He threw his horns back and laughed until he was shaking with it. It was a glorious moment and he wanted to savor it. The tale he’d be able to tell the boys once they were back in Skyhold would be legendary.  
  


* * *

Bull slammed his tankard down with an appreciative grunt. His throat burned with the liquor he was quaffing and his head was still wrapped in the memory of planting his axe into a high dragon’s skull. It had been a damn fine few days. 

“Still celebrating I see.” Lavellan pulled a chair over from a nearby table and straddled it with his arms wrapped around the back. Bull was pretty sure he’d never seen the man sit properly in a chair. 

“You’re here! Good good, I wanted to talk to you.” Bull swung his arm up to get Cabot’s attention and then motioned towards the Inquisitor so that the dwarven barkeep would bring them both a round. “But first drinks,” he insisted.

“Sounds good to me.” Lavellan was rubbing at the bags under his eyes and fidgeting with a fresh cut at the base of his left cheek. Just a little keepsake from their fight out in Crestwood. “Certainly beats trying to sort out that headache we brought back from Redcliffe or dodging Josephine’s dance lessons.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bull said with a chuckle as he pushed a tankard into Lavellan’s hands. “Here,” He raised his own tankard in toast. “To killing a high dragon like warriors of legend!”

“To dragons.” The elf didn’t even look at it before knocking it back. A move that earned him a burning throat and a lot of sputtering. A display that turned Bull’s earlier chuckle into uproarious laughter. He slapped Lavellan’s back until the elf stopped coughing.

“It’s better if you throw it back without tasting it.” 

“So I noticed,” wheezed Lavellan as he slowly relearned how to breathe. His next attempt went smoother, if only because he was prepared for the harsh and bitter taste. “That reminds me. That thing you shouted after we killed it. What does it mean?”

Bull mused for a moment with a half smile on his face before answering in a much more hushed tone. “Taarsidath-an halsaam,” he could feel heat rising to his face, “the rough translation would be: I will bring myself pleasure while thinking about this later with great respect.”

There was silence for a moment and Bull could feel Lavellan’s gaze heavy on him. 

“Well that explains quite a bit.”

“Yeah…” Bull had known this conversation was going to happen. Hell he’d been on the verge of starting it when they’d made it back to Crestwood that night. But everyone had been exhausted and covered in blood and grit. Inbetween getting clean and grabbing something to eat there just hadn’t been time. And on the ride back to Skyhold there really hadn’t been a private moment to talk. 

“Listen, Bull. About that bit after the fight...” Lavellan began before Bull waved him off with a hand as large as the elf’s face.

“Nah boss, you don’t have to say it. It wasn’t like that anyway.” Bull gave him a grin and leaned forward so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “Just got carried away is all. I mean, it’s not every day you bring down one of the Aatashi am I right?” He raised his tankard again in another toast. “To the Aatashi.”

Lavellan dutifully downed another portion of his drink and dragged a sleeve covered hand over his mouth. 

“Still, probably should apologize or something. I should have asked first and I also didn’t know you and Dorian had a thing going.”

It was Lavellan’s turn to stare off into space and flush slightly. “By the void. Am I really that transparent?” 

“You? No. Half the time you keep secrets like they’re going out of style.” Bull sat back and kicked a foot up over his knee. “But there’s a tenseness between the two of you thicker than orlesian arrogance. I just thought it had to do with him being a ‘Vint and you being Dalish.” He took another swig from his cup. “But that need of his to make sure you’re alright after every fight? The fact that you always bring him along when there’s a mission? Let’s just say my math is pretty good.” He shrugged then, rolling one boulder of a shoulder and settling further into his chair. “I wouldn’t worry about anyone else though. There’s a ton more crap to worry about than who the boss is banging.”

“Or not as the case may be,” Lavellan sighed around the brim of his tankard. Damn that liquor was strong if it was making him all wistful sounding. 

“No chance of just walking up to him and asking to jump his bones I take it?” Feeling slightly buzzed, Bull found damn near everything amusing. Not that he was trying to joke at Lavellan’s expense. 

“Nope, just have to wait and see if he comes around to the idea.” 

“He’d be crazy not to, Boss.” Bull tipped his glass and horns back before finishing, “You’ve got a great ass. And hey, if things don’t work out. My door is always open.” 

Lavellan chuckled in turn and ordered the next round. “I’ll keep that in mind.But I believe we were drinking to dragons.”

  



End file.
